


The Perfect Green

by AddictedToRavens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 21:42:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AddictedToRavens/pseuds/AddictedToRavens
Summary: "I paint my nightmares, getting them out of my head helps."I'd had this idea rolling around my head for some time.





	

I couldn’t get the green right, the paint on my pallet seemed to hate me as much as the rest of the world did. I had taken to painting, locked up in my bedroom there was little else other than sleeping or reading. I paint my nightmares, getting them out of my head helps. I used to burn them, destroying them from my memory, but without my wand, I didn’t want to risk setting the mansion ablaze.

I couldn’t get the green right, it always seemed to turn Slytherin green, I needed a sickly tone, the one that strikes you the same time that death does. I had dreamt of a basement, our, well my basement now, damp, with a layer of water maybe an inch or two thick. The sickly green light reflecting from its surface originating from a noose made from the essence of that green spell.

I had touched it in my dream, my hand going numb a fraction of an inch before I made contact, If the noose hadn’t swung I would have thought I’d missed it. As the noose swung, the reflection from the water caused the black bricks to warp, the green almost eating away at the room.

I hadn’t woken with a start like most of my nightmares, but instead with a shiver, cold sweats all over my body and short of breath. This nightmare terrified me, I’d had it once before, the night the war ended.

I set the pallet down too forcefully, knocking over a pot of brushes that scattered across the floor. A knock on my door, and a voice asking what had happened, my protector guarding my door, my jailer, guarding me.

I tidied them up, placing the pot down carefully this time, and checked my watch, quarter to seven, I was supposed to be awake in fifteen minutes, to be dressed for my trial, fifteen minutes of virtually no freedom, but compared to the cell id be living the rest of my life in this was an open field, a wild forest that went on for miles. I was confined right now, but more free than I’d ever be again.

I stood at the edge of my bed, the unmade sheets twisted and pushed to the right side, I looked down at my hands, they would soon be manacled. I pulled the sheets over to the left side. I felt the fabric in my hand, strong yet smooth and light, I’d taken these for granted, I’d taken everything for granted.

I stood, walking to the window, it stretched from floor to ceiling with wooden black borders, and black beams supporting the arch it was encased in. I saw the lake, the quidditch pitch, my mother’s flowers. I tried to commit these things to memory, I had to if I had any chance of survival in that cell.

I stood on the high back chair, getting higher to see more. This wasn’t the basement but it would do.

I was numb, the chair skittled out from under me and the sheets from my bed constricted around my throat. The beams above the window creaked slightly as my weight was supported on them. I waited for the green.

I waited and the green came, I opened my eyes and all I saw was green, the sickly grey green gave way to a bright emerald green as my eyes came into focus. Eyes, emerald green eyes, I sighed. My throat hurt, but I was happy, I was free.

I coughed and my throat felt like fire, that wasn’t right, I was supposed to be free of all of this, free of being hurt, free of everything.

I felt a hand grasp my head, another held my shoulder.

I heard my protectors voice. “I’m here Malfoy, I’m here.” he whispered. The green of his eyes, even brighter than the paint, more radiant than the noose. 

The perfect green.


End file.
